“If that is true,” Ava hisses, “it must have been between 11:00 p.m. last night when I left for the day and before we came to court.” Her gaze flicks towards me, accusatory, as if waiting to catch me in a lie.
She was at the office until 11:00? She keeps worse hours than I do, not that I’m surprised.
I lift a shoulder in a deliberate show of indifference. “Defense counsel is welcome to check the portal. The statement is there. We’re obligated to disclose discovery, not to personally alert opposing counsel every time we upload a document.”
The judge watches us both, eyes tired, fingers drumming once against the bench. The fluorescent lights overhead buzz faintly. The entire room feels as if everyone is waiting on the edge of their seats to see how this plays out.
Finally, he exhales. “He is technically correct, Ms. Kendrick,” he says. “You will have fifteen minutes to review the statement before the testimony begins.”
“Fifteen minutes?” Ava fires back, before schooling her features and changing her tone into something far more polite. “Your Honor, may I request a continuance until tomorrow to properly vet this witness and prepare for cross-examination?”
“Fifteen minutes, Ms. Kendrick, and if that’s a problem, I can make it zero,” he says flatly.
I feel a brief flare of guilt, but I squash it down. This is the name of the game. Ava plays to win, and I will as well.
She gives the judge a fake smile and promptly turns to flash me a look of pure malice before walking back to her table, spinerigid. I’d be lying if I said part of me wasn’t looking forward to the fight.
The guard’s testimony lands better than I’d hoped. He’s direct and self-assured, exactly the kind of witness juries eat up.
Ava’s cross is sharp, but she’s working with scraps. Fifteen minutes with a statement didn’t give her nearly enough time to build the traps she’s famous for.
When she finally sits, I rise for redirect. I could probably leave it there, but it’s like I’m watching from outside myself. She’s under my skin in ways I don’t know how to deal with, and it’s making me act uncharacteristically. Maybe it’s because we are on camera and the mayor’s words about voters linger. Or maybe I’m just in a bad mood because I can’t actuallydoanything with all the feelings I have.
So instead, I flash a disarming smile at the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, the State has had no difficulty gathering the relevant facts in this case,” I say. “Any suggestion otherwise would merely stem from Ms. Kendrick’s personal feelings towards me. It’s unfortunate the defense let pesky little things like emotions make them unprepared.”
Ava’s head snaps up. For a split second, her composure cracks. She presses her lips together until they pale, fingers tightening around her pen as though she might snap it in half.
The jury shifts uncomfortably, and I realize the minute I said it that I’ve taken it too far. Ava Kendrick is never unprepared, and they know that. Now, I just look like a grandstanding jackass. Whichadmittedly, I am. Worse, a chauvinistic one, even though I’m not. Which won’t do me any favors with the women jurors.
“Mr. Taylor,” Judge Reynolds cuts in sharply, “that is an argument, not a redirect. I don’t care if we are on television; I won’t have showboating in my courtroom. Save it for closing arguments. I’m imposing a two-hundred-dollar sanction for contempt, payable by the State. Keep your comments to evidence, or the fine will go up.”
I wince and dip my head in contrition. “Yes, Your Honor. Apologies.”
Across the aisle, Ava’s glare could strip paint. She’ll make me pay for that, I know it.
“Jesus Christ, Mark, are you trying to get us murdered? Her client is a fucking hit man, for Christ’s sake,” Brad hisses in my direction as I sit down.
I give him a look. “Quit being dramatic. She can file whatever motion she wants, and I got in trouble for it. It’s fine.”
It’ll make for good headlines.DA Taunts Defense in Courtroom Spar on NYTV.It’s the action that the old alpha donors will love. I remind myself that you have to win the game to get the office. This is what I’m here to do.
So why do I feel a little dirty?
We break for the day, and the courthouse empties. Reporters hover near the exits like sharks circling, cameras raised and phones poised to capture sound bites. I weave between them, nodding at one of the security guards holding the masses back.
I glance around for Ava, hoping for a chance to talk, though I’m unsure what I would say. I catch a flash of her fiery red hair as she ducks in her car and pulls away. Disappointment churns in my gut. I’m not even sure what I hoped for, and that uncertainty pisses me off all over again.
Back in my office, I finish up some paperwork I’ve been avoiding. Jane, my assistant, leans against my doorframe. “Heard you pulled a hell of a move today. Any tips on how you want me to spin the optics? Requests are already flooding in. It’s not often the district attorney gets fined for contempt of court.”
I sigh. “Tell them to watch the playback from court, and we can’t comment on ongoing cases. Though make sure it’s noted that I’m paying the fine myself, not using taxpayer funds.”
She nods and leaves me to my thoughts.
Sometimes I miss the days when the law was just the law, when I didn’t have to worry about the optics or politics of it all. Once upon a time, I had wanted to work in defense like Ava. But once I set my mind to holding office, prosecution made more sense. The general public likes the idea of someone at the helm that ‘puts the bad guys away.’
By the time I slide into my cab, the sun has long since set, leaving just the streetlights to reflect on the puddles. My phone won’t quit buzzing. I pull it out—texts from staff, a note from the mayor congratulating me on a great day in court, and of course, Adam sending me a social media clip of my barb at the bench.
Ava’s face flickers across my screen, zoomed in on that perfect, furious expression, and I have the strongest urge to screenshot it. Her beautiful face makes an ache form in my chest that I don’t know what to do with. I scrub my hands over my face, but it doesn’t help. The image sticks anyway.
